In the Course of Human Events
by My Beautiful Ending
Summary: "If he makes it, it's because of you." Sometimes, the smallest of gestures can intervene in a life, and change it for the better... in this case, it's Caro Pierce intervening, and Noah Newman might have a chance. A US Marshals fic, but hoping it will get more love here. NN/OC
1. Chapter 1

" –and I don't know when I'll be back, so I decided to visit," she said, glancing out the window of the Lorelei building where her grandfather lived. "Since I've been busy lately, Gramps," she added, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. But she'd have to stick to it; Mom didn't _like_ Jeff, and most of the time, Gramps agreed with her. She wasn't going to consider the thought that she might be right.

Her grandfather coughed, a wet, thick sound, and rubbed the oxygen hose on his nose. "So what've you been up to, young lady?" he asked, in a crackly voice.

"Work, mostly," she said, fiddling with strands of hair that were right on the line between blond and brown. "And I've got a boyfriend," she added reluctantly.

"Oh?" he asked, coughing again. "What's his name?"

"Jeff," she said, biting her lip. "I met him at work."

"Office romance, Caro?" her Gramps asked, winking at her.

"I guess," she said. _I have no clue._

"How's Rosa doing?" he asked, coughing again.

"Mom's good," she said. "So's Christine. She and Ben are expecting, but they don't want the word out quite yet, so keep it quiet," she added with a smile.

He nodded. "Mum's the word," he said, coughing again.

The wail of sirens grew outside the building. She leaned over and tried to get a better look, but the window was in an inconvenient spot. "I don't know what's going on," she said, frowning.

"It's a bad window," Gramps said. "I know; I live here." He coughed again.

She laughed.

When the door swung open and hit the wall loud enough to bang, she jumped and gasped. "Don't move, don't say anything," the man who stood in the doorway said in a harsh whisper. The gun in his hand was enough to convince her. She knew guns, and she knew men who carried guns. They were usually willing to use them. This one certainly looked it –his clothes were ripped, and his dark face had extreme tension written all over it. He took a quick, furtive, glance out the doorway before shutting it and managing to climb up and brace himself against the ceiling and walls, using the bookcase near the door as a support.

Gramps coughed, and she bit her lips hard. _What was he _doing_ here? What was he doing, period? What did he want? Was someone chasing him?_

Her question was answered momentarily as another man holding a gun burst into the room. She jumped again and realized she couldn't feel her lips anymore. He ran through her Gramps's small apartment, searching. She cast a small, furtive glance at the man against the ceiling, who was as still as a statue.

_Oh, God,_ she prayed, but couldn't think of what else to say.

The second man turned back to them and frowned slightly. Fear clenched her heart as she glanced at her grandfather, who, bless him, was trying to signal to the man the location of the intruder. Her legs tightened with flight instinct.

The second man got the hint just as the first man dropped on him.

As they crashed into the partition between the two rooms, she flew to her feet and grabbed Gramps's wheelchair, trying frantically to pull him out of the room, out of the line of fire. As they smashed into something else, the wheel got caught on the doorway, and she wailed inwardly, feeling seconds slip away. She got the wheel unhooked from the doorframe and yanked Gramps into the hallway just as a young man came barreling around the corner down the hallway. He had a gun, too.

"US Marshal!"

She wordlessly pointed towards Gramps's room, trying to put distance between them and the chaos. She pulled the wheelchair down the hall as her Gramps coughed and the young man ran past them.

She had nearly reached the end of the hall when the shot rang out.

_…No…!_

"Stay here!" she told her Gramps (like he was going anywhere) as she ran back to his room, feeling dread well up in her stomach. Guns always hurt people; she knew that better than most…

It seemed so quiet as she took in the sight of the young man on his back on the floor, with a red stain welling up on his white T-shirt. His hands twitched and he gasped, which made her fall to her knees beside him as what little nurse's training she had gained before dropping out of school kicked in. She grabbed a towel from the bathroom and pressed it as hard as she could to the wound in his chest.

_Keep pressure…._

"Hey, can you hear me? Sweetie?" She didn't know why she called him sweetie –he didn't look all that much older than she –but she had to call him something. "Look at me, okay?" she asked, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

His eyes slid over to her face. _Well, that's good._

A string of curses filled the air as someone dropped down beside her. "Newman?" an older man with a large nose and a taut expression said, "_Jesus, kid_…"

The young man –Newman –coughed and tried to say something.

"Don't try to talk, kid," the older man said. "Don't move, don't talk." The older man cursed some more and grabbed his walkie-talkie. "This is Gerard in the 8th floor of the Lorelei building," he snapped, "I need an ambulance; Newman has been shot! What the hell happened?" he turned away from them to someone she recognized as the 'second man' who seemed quite distraught.

"Sheridan managed to get off a shot and Newman just –just walked right into it," he said, waving his hand. "Walked right into it… oh, God…"

He seemed to notice her presence for the first time. "Who're you?"

"This is my grandfather's room," she said. "I was visiting –I've had some nurse's training –" she was babbling; she knew it. So did he.

"Okay," he said, going back to his radio, "I repeat, I need an ambulance, do you copy?"

Luckily a police officer poked his head in the doorway just at that moment. "I need your EMS team up hear pronto!" he snapped angrily. "Miss, can you –"

"I'll stay," she said, applying renewed pressure. He went out the window.

She felt… this huge sense of guilt. She had pointed him into here –he had gotten _shot_–

"You might want to let up, he's looking like he has trouble breathing –" the 'second man' said.

"Who's the one with nurse's training?" she snapped. "That's right, me! Shut up!" She was desperately afraid that if she let up the pressure on him, if she let go, he'd bleed right out. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I'm so, so sorry, sweetie… it's my fault –"

He blinked and shook his head slowly. "N-no…" he managed to choke the word out. "J-job…"

"Don't hurt yourself," she said. "Okay? You stay with me, okay? You promise?"

He was turning whiter and whiter, but he had given what strength he had to make sure she knew he didn't blame her.

"Where're the medics?" she snapped at the police officer.

"Here they are!" he called, directing them in. Four men carrying a stretcher ran into the room, and immediately started assessing his vitals, trying to clear his airway, and helping her put pressure onto his wound.

Her arms were going shaky from how hard she was trying to press this towel into his chest –which was getting soaked with red –but she had to stop the blood. It wasn't supposed to _be_ out here…

"Ma'am, we're going to lift him onto the stretcher on the count of three, alright?" one of the men said.  
"Yes, alright," she said.

"One, two… three." They lifted him up and onto the stretcher, where they strapped him in and put an oxygen mask on his face. "Can I come with him?" she heard herself ask.

"Sure," the first man said. "Do you mind keeping pressure?"  
"No," she said, reapplying force on the new bandage that had been put over the towel. That had been a basic rule –don't take dressings off, just put more over to stop the bleeding.

They took the elevator. She didn't know what else to do except… talk to him. So she did. She asked him if his eyes had always been blue and if he had gotten the curly, sand-colored hair from his mother or father, if he had any brothers or sisters, and what his first name was. He couldn't talk back –and she thought that was a bad sign –but he was looking at her, so she kept it up. He had a very young face –what her mother would call a 'baby face' –and a nose that seemed a little out of proportion with the rest of his features, but it was kind of cute. She told him so.

She thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch under the mask.

They got him in the ambulance and she climbed in, not thinking. The older man from before reappeared and climbed in after her. The doors closed and the sirens blared.

"This is unit 115, we are en route to the facility with a 32 year old male with a gunshot wound to the chest. ETA five minutes."

She could tell it wasn't going well. As the paramedic called, "Hey partner, can you hear me? Partner?" and the older man whispered, "His name is _Noah,_" she kept talking.

"Noah, sweetie, we need your eyes open, okay? Can you do that for me?" She said, and she heard the beeps slow.

She let go of his hand long enough for them to use the defibrillator, but then she grabbed it again, saying in a louder voice, "Noah, you _promised_ me, now you open your eyes! Noah!" She felt strangely gratified to see his eyelids flutter.

"That's good, okay?" she said. "Now keep them open, Noah. Understand?"

The ambulance stopped and the doors popped open, and she got out of the way to let the paramedics do their job. "Does he have a chance?" the hospital worker asked.

"Slim," the paramedics said. "We had to defib, but he's still responding, so…"

She didn't hear the rest. She headed for the nearest clump of bushes and was promptly sick. "At least I held off until now," she told herself, wiping her mouth. She stared at her hands without seeing them. They were red up to her wrists. _I need to wash,_ she thought. _I need to call Gramps. I need…_

"Thank you," the older man said, and she jumped, not having realized he was that close.

She nodded awkwardly. "I hope he makes it," she whispered.

"If he does it's because of you," he said, and his voice was thick.

"Thanks," she said. "I'm gonna…" she motioned towards the hospital with her red hands. He nodded.

As the blood ran down the drain in the bathroom, she wondered if she had underestimated herself again by quitting school those years ago. She scrubbed her hands under the sink. _If he makes it, it's because of you,_ her mind whispered to her.

It was a good thought.


	2. Chapter 2

_"It's touch and go, really… he had the surgery, but his heart stopped again in the middle and we had to resuscitate. It's up to him now whether or not he wants to wake up."_

The surgeon's words kept echoing in Sam Gerard's mind as he sat beside Noah's bedside. It had been four days. They had gotten Sheridan back, and Royce was dead –_he_ had shot the boy, not Sheridan… but Noah still hadn't woken up.

"We got him, kid," he said. "I know you tried to tell me, but we got him."

His mother and sister had arrived on day two, and after saying hello, Sam had let Cosmo and Savannah deal with them, mostly because he couldn't really handle sobbing women. Cooper understood; she _was_ a woman, and Cosmo could lift most people's spirits by just being himself.

He had apologized to Cosmo. Sort of. Hadn't really said the words 'I'm sorry,' but Cosmo knew what he meant.

This kid just had to wake up.

"Newman, I'm gonna get some coffee. And when I get back, you'd better be awake," Sam said, using his US Marshals this-is-an-order-and-not-an-option voice. He left the room and Cooper took his place, sitting beside his bed and talking softly to him. The team was taking the night shift so his family could be with him in the day and get some decent sleep.

He just needed some decent coffee, at the moment. Taking a sip of the hospital stuff, he shrugged. It wasn't the best, but he'd had worse –think black coffee with the consistency of mud that managed to taste like mud, too. He'd gotten it down, though. He took another sip.

"Sam!" Cooper yelled. "Sam, get in here!" He was running before he heard her next words –"He's awake!"

"How you doin', kid?" Sam asked, ascertaining with his own eyes that yes, Noah was awake and blinking. "You okay?"

He blinked. "Did… did we…"

"We got them. Royce and Sheridan."

"He –he…"

"I know, kid," Sam said, "I know. Hey, Cooper, call his mother. She'll want to see him."

"I'm tired," Noah whispered.

"You want anything?"

"Was she real?"

"Who?"

"The girl." Noah looked up at him in confusion. "She… she kept talking… to me…"

"Oh, her. Yeah, she was real. Kept pressure on your wound, probably saved your life," Sam said.

"Thought I dreamed her," Noah whispered. "Who… is she?"

"Don't know, kid." And it occurred to Sam, he really _didn't_ know.

Two days later, Noah was sitting up and feeding himself as Sam Gerard showed him a black and white photo from the hospital security footage. "This her?" Sam asked.

"I think so," Noah said. She wasn't looking at the camera, but the hair looked right.

"Biggs is trying to find her grandfather at the Lorelei building to get a name," Sam said, leaving the picture on the table. "Why don't you eat your pears?"

"I don't like pears," Noah said.

"I don't care."

"Aren't people supposed to be able to eat whatever they want when they're sick?" Noah asked.

"I wouldn't know; I'm never sick," Sam said.

Noah smiled at that. "But she didn't say anything, Sam? Not her name, nothing?"

"She said something about nurse's training," Sam said. "If nothing else pans out, we'll start scouring the nursing schools. We'll find her, kid."

* * *

Well, they found her. Sort of.

"Her name's Caroline Pierce," Sam told Newman. "She goes by Caro. Twenty-eight. She was visiting her grandfather when hell broke loose. She dropped out of nursing school after a year, and works as a secretary for a lawyer. But, according to either her mother or grandfather, depending on which one you ask, she's either on vacation or a business trip."

His juice went down the wrong way and he had to cough. "What?" Noah said, frowning.

"It's weird. Her apartment's cleaned out like she wasn't expecting to come back –no food in the fridge, nothing."

"Anybody know who else is going on this vacation business trip?" Noah asked.

"Nope. And the lawyer's address doesn't exist. The grandfather said she did tell him about a boyfriend named Jeff and that she met him at work, but nothing's come up so far."

"Maybe I really did dream her," Noah muttered.

Sam grinned. "Well, try to do it again, huh? But let us worry about this mystery girl. You just get better, okay kid?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "I get to start walking soon."

"That's great, kid."

"The Doctor said maybe a month or two until I can go back into the field."

"You sure you're up for it?"  
"Sam." Noah looked at him. "I want to go back to work. This is all I've ever wanted to do."

"Okay kid. Then get better."


	3. Chapter 3

Caro was slowly and efficiently shredding her napkin to bits. The restaurant was dimly lit and she was tired. She wanted to go to sleep.

No.

She wanted to go _home._

She missed her mother, her grandfather, and her sister –had she had the baby yet? Was it a boy or girl? –and she was sick of being 'arm candy.'

Well. Arm candy and the girl in charge of the books.

When she agreed to this trip, she had thought her misgivings were just about how she felt about Jeff.

Turns out, she had misgivings about everything from his family, to his friends, to the actual point of this trip… she had never meant to stay away this long.

She jumped as he touched her arm. "What's up, baby?"

She hesitated, but finally said, "Jeff, you said this trip would only take a few weeks. It's been _four months."_

"So? Haven't you been having fun?" He slicked back his black hair and leaned back in his seat. He was an up-and-coming lawyer, just like his father, but she knew about their dealings with the mob now. She knew what kind of man he was now. He was a snake in the grass. Her mother had been right.

"I need to get _home_," she said, hating the quiver in her voice.

"Babe, we can't have anyone really…wandering off right now, okay? When things cool down, we'll talk, all right?" he smiled at her charmingly. It made all the girls weak at the knees.

All the girls who didn't know him. And she did. And she was tired of him and his smile and his work and if she wasn't afraid of his family, she'd quit.

But she couldn't quit. There was just this feeling that she couldn't shake, that told her she couldn't escape.  
She had felt it two weeks into the trip when she discovered the strange, out of place documents in his father's briefcase, detailing funds that she couldn't find a record of and people that weren't in the client list. And then Jeff had walked up behind her, taken the papers out of her hand, and told her to mind her own business. He had pinched her, too. Hard enough to bruise.

_No escape_.

Then, as they bounced around from country to country, state to state, never staying in one place for more than two weeks, she had wondered.

_No escape._

And her questions about when they would be finished traveling kept getting put off.

_No escape._

And then she had snooped at a keyhole one evening, and Jeff had found out and slapped her for it. Oh, he apologized right after, but she had seen his face. She had felt the sting. The man wasn't who she had thought he was, but she knew exactly what he was now. He was the man who was basically holding her captive. She didn't know how to leave.

_No escape._

Jeff signaled the waiter and asked for a meal to go, and Caro knew whom it was for. Jeff's friend –an actual friend, surprisingly –that had arrived at the family's house under…rather dubious circumstances, the friend that she was discouraged from talking to. His name was Parker Gregson, and she suspected he was hiding. And given Jeff's family's dealings, he could only be hiding from the law.

That had only intensified her need to escape, to flee… but it also threw one more reason on her head that Jeff's family would never _let_ her leave.

_Trapped like rats._

The food came, and they walked out into the dusk.

* * *

"Sam," Noah whispered. "_Look."_

They were staked outside the restaurant where the friend of their quarry was eating dinner. It was as hot as blazes, and he and Sam and Biggs were all sweating bullets and wishing they were with Cooper and Renfro, watching the house. But as he watched the two people leaving the restaurant, he completely forgot about it.

Because the girl he had been trying to find for months had reappeared.

Sam, dressed up like a homeless junkie, frowned his trademark scowl. "_Jeff_… Rupert Jeffrey Hightower III, son of the second Hightower, who I'm betting is her lawyer boss," he growled. "Now, who's that bag of food for, I wonder?"

Noah couldn't drag his eyes off of the girl. They were coming closer.

"Keep your eyes in your head, kid, and remember the cover," Sam muttered.

Right. He was managing to look like a druggie (and it was working, he had grown his hair out again), so he let his hands shake some more and took the cigarette Biggs held out with another set of shaky hands. He couldn't help taking another look, though.

And she saw him. Astonishment rippled through her, and her feet slowed. Enough that the guy she was with yanked on her arm hard enough to make her almost stumble. But she shot another look at him before they turned the corner.

There was something in her eyes, something like… hope?

"The dad's evidently pretty sharp, but I don't know that the son inherited his smarts," Biggs muttered. "Getting his friend Gregson some take out? Sheesh."

"We move in the morning," Sam decided, scratching at the cap he wore. "Call Cooper and Cosmo."

"Sam," Noah said.

"Yeah, kid."

"Do you think she's _with_ them?"

"Don't know, kid. Guess we'll find out. But _stay focused_, okay?"

Noah nodded under his boss and friend's sharp gaze. "Got it, boss."

"Good. Let's go get some sleep. Early day tomorrow."

* * *

_Noah._

The name had been resonating in her head ever since she had seen him in the street.

_Noah._

She had thought often of calling the hospital to see if he had made it, but she had always found a reason not to –and now she knew that she would have been terribly hurt if he hadn't…

But he _had_, and she had seen him. Looking a bit different, admittedly; his hair was much longer, and he was…

Looking like a junkie.

But that wasn't right at all; he was a _US Marshal_…

Oh.

_Oh._

Sitting up in her room, Caro wondered whom, exactly, they were looking for. Now that she thought about it, she thought that the man with the cap beside Noah could have been the older, frowning man from that day. Yes, it was very likely that they were wanting someone in the house –Jeff, his father, his friend, their coworkers… oh, dear Lord they were _coming_ for them –what if they thought she was _part_ of it all –that she was a_ willing_ participant…

She put on her shoes, knowing only that she had to get _out_. She slipped quietly down the stairs and through the dark hall, but the light in the living room stopped her. Mr. Hightower was still awake.

"Can't sleep, Caroline?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She smiled tightly. "Just…getting some water." She forced herself to go to the kitchen. Jeff's friend Parker froze mid-bite as she walked in. She smiled her not-smile at him and mechanically got a glass and filled it with water before walking out and back up the stairs.

Obviously, running was not a good plan.

Of course it wasn't a good plan. She had _thought_ about this for a while now!_ Stupid, stupid_, she thought to herself. And if she _did_ run, and they discovered it, then whatever Noah and the other Marshals were planning was undone.

_I can't take the chance,_ Caro thought.

But… she could do this.

She grabbed the dark red scarf she had bought more for fashion than warmth and opened the window enough to let it hang down a few feet, then shut it. She hoped someone named Noah would have some idea of what it meant. Or that any of them would.

She stared out into the dark night, and didn't remember falling asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: One more chapter after this, and then the one-shot stories! You know who you are.**

"Just like going to get Copeland," Noah muttered as he and Sam stumbled down the sidewalk in the early gray morning.

"Do me a favor and don't get grabbed again," Sam said.

"Right."  
"Keep your head. And be _drunk_, Newman."

Noah lurched a little bit more and coughed.

"You kids ready?" Sam said into the radios.

"We copy," the rest of the team said.

"Here we go."

* * *

At the sound of smashing wood, her head flew up off of her arms, disoriented. Someone yelled "US Marshals, everybody down!" and someone –the maid, probably –screamed.

Caro took a deep breath and opened her door, raising her hands in the appropriate I-am-unarmed-please-do-not-shoot position. Her baggy t-shirt and shorts would have to do.

"Caroline –Caroline, come on!" Jeff screamed, running to her door with Parker. "We've got to –"

"_You've_ got to," she corrected with a bravery that she didn't know she had.

He sputtered for half a second, but the yell "Let me see those hands!" from downstairs was enough to wake him up.

"Fine," he said, with a couple of other choice words about her and her mother.

"Freeze!"

"Oh, no," Parker growled, grabbing her arm and wrapping a hand around her throat enough to cut off most of her air supply. She choked.

"What're you –" Jeff shrieked.

"I'm getting outta here, man! Hey, I got a hostage! I want outta here! I'll kill her!" he screamed.

Caro writhed in his grip. He didn't have a gun. If she could just breathe–

"Let her go!" the figure dashing up the stairs snapped.

_Noah._ She had forgotten how tall he was. She was managing to kick Parker in the shins, but she still couldn't get a big enough breath.

"There's no way out of this," Noah said. "Let her go and make it easier on yourself."

"No way, man!" Parker yelled, dragging her backwards. She had no clue where he was going –there were no other stairs in the house.

"Caro."

Her eyes snapped to the man with curly disheveled hair in front of her. He had never said her name before. He_ remembered._

"Drop."

And she did it without thinking, folding up her legs so that she no longer held up her weight –it was Parker who was doing it with his grip on her arm and throat –and he wasn't expecting it, and so she dropped half a foot before he realized.

BLAM.

And she was falling forward, finally able to breathe –air was so nice –and she was caught up in a pair of arms that were rough and scratchy, but she knew it was the hobo outfit. When she tried to turn her head in a knee-jerk what-was-that reaction, he held her head and said, "Don't look."

"Is –is he…"

"Just wounded. He'll live. You all right?"

She looked up into his face –he definitely had at least four inches on her –and nodded. Her eyes went to his chest and her fingers traced the now invisible wound. "So you made it," she said. "That… that's good. I wondered."

"I hear I've got you to thank," he said.

She did blush then.

"Good call, young man," the older man said, passing them and clapping him on the shoulder. Noah smiled, and Caro wondered if she had ever seen anything more beautiful.

"Thanks, Sam," he said.

"Get this girl something for her throat; we'll take care of this," he said, motioning to what must have been Parker and Jeff, who she could see out of the corner of her eye, cowering in fear and shock.

Throat? What was wrong with it? She felt around, and yes, it seemed –yeah, okay, it hurt a bit. A lot.

"That's gonna bruise," Noah said. "Come on."

As she put her hand in his, she whispered, "Noah."

He looked back at her. "What?"

"Nothing," Caro whispered. "I just wanted to say your name."

He smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: this is pretty short, but it seemed like it needed to be separate. The one shot series is going to be called "Hold These Truths to be Self Evident." Take a look! :)  
**

"US Deputy Marshal Sam Gerard. I don't think we've officially met."

Caro shifted the ice pack, which was very cold (but refreshing) against her sore neck, to her other hand in order to shake the one he held outstretched. "Caro," she said. "I remember. Thank you."

"We'll have to take you in to ask you some questions, but I don't think it will take long," Sam said. "This kid can look after you 'til then. That okay?"

"Sure," Caro said with a smile, glancing at Noah. He hadn't really left her since he caught her.

She didn't mind.

"So this is Noah's girl, huh? She's pretty," A shorter man with a beard said, coming up to him.

"Caro, this is Cosmo Renfro," Noah said. "And that back there is Bobby Biggs and Savannah Cooper."

"Pleased to meet you," She said, smiling.

"You're practically family now," Sam said. "Speaking of family, your mother's been worried about you. We couldn't find you after Noah got himself shot."

"Hey," Noah objected. "Not my fault."

_Mom._ "I tried to call in the beginning, but it was…ah, discouraged. I did get her a couple of times, though," Caro said, "Just to tell her I was alright. Can I call her now?"

"Sure, Cosmo's got a phone," Sam said, and Cosmo handed it over to her. She thanked him and walked a little bit away to call home.

* * *

" 'Discouraged'?" Noah repeated, feeling more than just a little angry.

Sam cursed.

"Man, wouldn't ya just like to get your hands on that guy…" Cosmo muttered.

"I wonder if she'd be willing to testify," Savannah murmured. "That'd be something else to slap down on whatever the DA's got."

"That's a good idea, Cooper. You ask her once she's done with her phone call; use that female intuition you've got," Sam said. "Newman, you and Cosmo take her to the office where we can get her statement. Biggs, you and I and Cooper will wrap up here. Capiche?"

"Yeah, we got it, Sammy," Cosmo said. "Alright, I'll get the car. Newman, go get your girl."

"She's not 'my' girl," Noah said.

The whole team stared at him.

"Son," Sam said, clapping him on the shoulder. "She is most definitely 'your girl'."

His face might or might not have been turning red as he looked at Caro. She was still on the phone, but she met his eyes and smiled widely.

He didn't mind.

_The End_


End file.
